Take No Prisoners
by Yellerumbrellas
Summary: Prison was not meant for Ciel. He's innocent, he swears on the grave of his parents. Sebastian thinks otherwise. A veteran inmate like him would not be fooled by some kid. No matter how pure he looked. Or how pure he tasted. AU
1. Chapter 1

**Hey there! Lemme just say I** _ **cannot stress**_ **how badly I wanted to call this fic 'Orange is the New Black'. Had it not been for the Netflix series with the same name, I would have indeed titled the fic just that. But Take No Prisoners was a close second choice, so here we are. I'm not exactly proficient in how prison's function, and my sources are basically reruns of Orange is the New Black and Wentworth on Netflix. So apologies if I screw something up.**

 **Rated T for language, violence, and sexual** **content**. **(Though it may go to M when lemon season rolls up)**

 **I don't own Kuroshitsuji or any of its characters. See you at the end of the chapter.**

* * *

Seven hundred twenty hours. So far, that's how long Ciel had been there. Which was equivalent to exactly one June month, or thirty days. Now, if Ciel had done his maths correctly, which of course he had, that was six hundred seventy two unnecessary extra hours for someone to lose their mind. Quite frankly, he had not. _Yet_. Though he was teetering on the lines now, and bound to fall. The torture and psychological manipulation would take a toll on him sooner or later.

Now, he only had 60,600 more hours to serve before his life returned from dormancy and a temporary pause. And he was counting down every second of it.

Ciel closed his eyes as soon as he felt the raw frustration and rage blooming inside of him, shoving every last bit of it down into the deepest parts of himself. There'd be no point in getting upset here. He'd just be drowning himself in his own misery. Might as well _try_ to like wretched place as much as possible. However difficult that task may be. He was, after all, being forced to for seven years.

With a silent sigh and fluttering of dark eyes, he pressed himself deeper into the shelter of his bottom bunk, hating the narrowness of his room, and the boy who slept with him even more.

He'd be honest, here. Ciel Phantomhive was definitely a hot-tempered guy with a short- very short fuse. It didn't take much to irritate him. But that's exactly it. He was simply _irritated,_ exasperated, even. But never actually flustered nor angry. Never truly upset with anyone, 'less they'd done something unspeakable to grant such direct hatred.

Yet the halfwits there at Hatfield Prison managed to coax out every little vexation from him. Starting from a morning dosage of aggravation to a nightfall of sheer rage.

Ciel would never admit that, though. They weren't worth his frustration and rage. Not a single one of them.

Two fingers slid across a worn out leather book, tucked in between frigid hands closely held to his chest. Ciel had kept track of all the nudniks there for the past month, just to note his surely inevitable slow slipping of sanity and who caused it. No, it was not a diary. More of a bitch book that he wrote little observations about people. And _everyone_ was in it.

Beginning with the boy on the top bunk of their shared room. Alois Trancy... or was it Alex Terrance? Maybe Allen Troy? Ciel shook his head quickly with a snide roll of inky blue pools, waving off the importance of the name before sinking back into thought.

You'd think that after a month with someone, he'd learn their name. But when you're constantly ignoring them along the way, the prospect wasn't so difficult. Nevermind his name, he was a blond brat with no personal boundaries himself, or a lick of respect for anyone else's. With a flushed face, Ciel thought, _Especially not mine._

The kid was a year or two older than Ciel himself, probably no more than 20, but acted as if he was a twelve year-old that just discovered porn for the first time.

Thank god, Alois- yes, Ciel was sure that was his name, now- was one of the inmates that flustered him more than the other two options, so Ciel didn't have to worry about smothering anyone in the middle of the night with pillows that smelled suspiciously like cigars.

Currently, Alois was on laundry duty, so he wouldn't return for another half hour or so. Ciel smiled faintly, glad to have a good hour of sanity and dignity.

Ciel opened the notebook in his hands, eyes flickering to the first note he'd taken on Alois:

 _Horny._

When he'd first met Alois last week, he was sure that the penitentiary was just fooling with him. Sending the most infuriating inmate in the entire unit to be his roommate, just to see how far deranged goldie locks could push Ciel Phantomhive before he snapped and they'd actually have solid evidence that he belonged in the damnable place.

Ciel hadn't exactly thought about that on the first day, so he'd automatically resorted to bitch slapping the boy when groped. Thankfully, it had been in the shower, _after_ Ciel finished dressing, that is, in a corner where none of cameras could capture.

Alois had only laughed, continuing to prod and poke at the boy, only with his lewd remarks instead of his hands. In fact, it was Alois who'd shed light on the prison's so-called true intentions. What had he said, again?

"Careful, or they'll take you away from me," Ciel thought.

That prompted the second note:

 _Deceptive._

So the following days, Ciel played nice. He'd allowed Alois to grope and tease and do whatever he please, and hadn't uttered a single objection. Obviously, that didn't mean he _liked_ all the suggestive things Alois would do to him, but they hadn't become bothersome enough for him to crack like the first day. Nothing as derogatory or upfront.

Ciel didn't exactly swing that way, for now, at least. In reality, it hadn't been far fetched of a challenge to ignore the guy. Alois was, in fact, a male, and he wasn't attracted to that kind of thing. At least that's what he kept telling himself.

That's what he told himself when the brat catcalled him in the garden and giggled about it. _A guy, Ciel._

It's what he told himself when Mr. Bipolar Sunshine whispered taunting little things about what he'd do to Ciel had he the chance. _He's just a guy, Ciel_.

What he told himself when he'd been slapped in the ass in front of the entire unit in the cafeteria, which caused quite an uproar of teasing and following even more catcalling- not just by Alois this time. _He's just a guy with no release, Ciel._

What he repeatedly told himself when Alois asked for a blowjob. Again, in front of the entire cafeteria.

Okay, he was exaggerating. It was more like the entire table, which consisted of Ciel and six or seven other guys, but no less humiliating and degrading.

The most embarrassing of it all wasn't even that! Oh yes, my friend, there was more. Like that was even possible. It wasn't just, "Oh that banana looks delicious, Ciel, would you be up for the same with me?" or, "Let's have some fun tonight with that pretty mouth, Ciel."

Any of those, he could have easily brushed off and replied with a joke of his own to fend off Alois. But no. He guessed the bloody place just had it in for him.

Because what came out of his roommates mouth, instead, was:

"Say, Ciel? I need a blowjob sometime."

The third note in Alois's profile was:

 _Lacking filter._

Ciel said nothing. He could only sputter while choking on his milk, sure that the white beverage was dripping out of his nose.

"Oh dear, please don't do that when you get to it," Alois had fretted, patting the boy reassuringly on the back with raised eyebrows and a tilted smile.

His hands had been slowly removed off of Ciel, by Ciel, gracing him with a denying glare and haughty departure.

Ciel figured that, at that point, the boy was sick of engaging in a one way road of foreplay that was clearly going in circles, so might as well jump straight to it. So no reply was needed.

That had been four days ago. And the last straw, frankly, for Ciel. Alois was not just a guy. And he certainly wasn't a guy with no release. No. Alois was gay. The cherry on top: he was gay for Ciel, of all people. Not that Ciel minded, of course. His girlfriend Lizzy had come out as lesbian. Which was why they broke up; it was a mutual agreement in the end. He supposed he never really liked her all that much in the first place. They were still close friends though, and she promised to pay him a visit once every two months or so.

Anyhow, he wasn't some conservative snotty homophobe from the 1800's, and he wasn't as much disgusted by Alois' attempts at seduction as he was tired. This was the 21st century, c'mon. But that didn't mean he didn't have any rights. Of course, the Acts of Parliament did not list 'personal space' in it- or 'personal space for prisoners' either- but it was kind of an unsaid moral that most people, more or less followed.

At that point, Ciel had began blatantly ignoring Alois. The nice guy act was over, and he wasn't putting up with any of this bullshit any longer.

Like, when Alois asked him to pass a napkin at breakfast the morning before, he pretended as if he hadn't heard. Or when Ciel was invited to the common roomful a smoke with his friends. He had not gone.

But the little arse was fine. He was, still, Alois. It was almost laughable. He wouldn't, and couldn't, be put off by any of Ciel's retreating, and would probably come crawling back asking if _Ciel_ needed a blow.

The fourth words were:

 _Dense and desperate._

Fortunately, his roommate was the most of his worries- everyone else was either just rude or crazy.

Ciel flipped through the pages of his notebook, stopping when he landed on a rough sketch of a scrawny man was in his late twenties, long locks dyed silvery, shielding his mad eyes and fading facial scar from the world. Ciel often found himself wondering how the officials let him keep it that length. His own hair had never been touched, forever the same choppy mid-neck length it'd always been, because it was short enough to function with. But that man's hair was longer than most girls'.

That man was the Undertaker.

Now, if Alois was deranged, Ciel thought as he skimmed through the side notes, then the Undertaker was simply a nuisance.

Beneath the scribbly, poorly drawn picture of the Undertaker was the word: _unprofessional._

His real name was left behind in the real world, as he requested for everyone there to refer to him by that name, even the officials. They all surprisingly complied.

Ciel had nothing against the man, except the fact that he particularly liked to drag Ciel into his antics- or whatever you might call them-, most likely because he was a lot more difficult to humor than any of the others.

And his damn jokes and riddles were absolutely insufferable.

 _Likes dad jokes._

Long story short, Ciel wasn't sure if the Undertaker belonged in prison, or an asylum.

The only reason he even gave a bloody hoot about the man was because of his knowledges.

Evidently, the Undertaker knew everything about everyone. Rumor had it that he was sleeping with an official to learn all of the penitentiary's secrets. And they were good secrets. For instance, two weeks ago, two of the inmates in the west block managed to escape via laundry chute, and have been wanted ever since. But guess who knew about it even before the security cameras?

Precisely.

 _Sly._

That's not all, though. The first week Ciel had gotten there, all the prisoners had already known who he was. No polite introductions or 'Hello, nice to meet you's'. All he got was, 'Aye, Ciel' and a grope (guess who that was). Because they'd all previously been notified from a certain source about his arrival, and they'd been expecting it ever since. Everyone virtually knew him already, and they didn't need to be nice to someone they already knew. Anyway, that didn't make it any less creepy to him.

So far, since Ciel had gotten there, no new people had yet to arrive. At least not in their unit.

But last night at dinner, there was a load of chatter, caused by the Undertaker, about some guy named Sebastian who was returning back from a probationary period in the high-security Chelmsford. Joy, another lunatic for Ciel to hate. Apparently this man was already very acquainted with everyone, because they wouldn't stop talking about him.

'Do you think he remembers the time when we did joints in the chapel?'

'Of course, you blubbering fool, he's only been gone for five months.'

'Shut up, Bard, you guys weren't even friends.'

'He liked me better than you!'

'That's hilarious, you lil'-'

Ciel had stopped listening after the first glop of mashed potatoes were thrown. Following had been an array of peas, tomato soup, and chicken strips. Most of which tarnished his uniform and undergarments in unspeakable ways.

And the entire time during the food fight, the Undertaker just sat there, laughing his arse off, untouched by a crumb of the prison meals.

 _Scheming._

You see, Ciel ever wanted a chance at survival there, he needed to be in the man's good grace's.

Then, there were other people Ciel would never put in a single drop of effort for.

Like the pale-haired Ash with anger management issues. Now there was somebody he actually did want to smother had he the opportunity. Ciel didn't have any notes on Ash. He didn't deserve them.

The boy subconsciously touched the faint bruises on his neck, scattered and yellow.

He wasn't sure what the guy's problem was. First Ciel had been walking down the east block to get towels for himself and Alois at the commissary, and next thing you know, he's being pinned down and strangled by some random man he'd never seen before.

Two hands wrapped tightly around his throat, while screaming some obscenity about him being 'unclean'. The boy was actually frightened for a moment, scared and paranoid that all the inmates were secretly after him because he was some new weakling twig that was a great punching bag and outlet for them.

Soon, the security guards were on the both of them, successfully pulling Ash off in seconds. Afterwards, both of them had been given a strict reprimanding of the 'no-hands' rule, and were threatened into isolation until one of them confessed.

Ash had originally tried to blame everything on Ciel, yapping about how he was just defending himself from the other boy trying to stab him. But when no sharp objects had been retrieved from Ciel, he was found guilty, then placed in solitary confinement for the next three months. Thankfully, Ciel had yet to get a glimpse of him.

The marks on his throat were beginning to fade little, but they were still quite evident, and everyone had begun treating him like some great war hero with battle scars, instead of a kid who got throttled by a raging prisoner.

You know, it was really difficult to play guidance counselor when all people would look at were the evident bruises painted brightly on his neck, asking how he got them instead of listening to what he had to say. That was Ciel's job, after all. To play mediator between the inmates and break up fights. Listen to their problems. Truthfully, it probably wasn't the best job to have for someone like Ciel, but it paid really well. Better than washing everyone else's clothes, at least.

Speaking of which-

"Ciel!" a sharp bark at the front of the cell door caused said boy to shoot up from his lying reminiscent state, forehead crashing into the solid mattress planks of the top bunk with a deafening thud. He hiss at the sudden contact, clutching his head tightly while mentally grumbling insults about whomever had called him.

Peaking through the slim fingers caressing his skull, he could faintly see those familiar icy blue orbs staring hungrily at him. Curses, look who's back from laundry. Speak of the Devil.

"You've been avoiding me," Alois spat, glaring accusingly at the dark-haired inmate. If Ciel hadn't known the guy's true intentions, he probably would have mistaken the lust hidden behind those angry words as hurt. But this was still Alois.

"Have I?" Ciel laughed humorlessly, sitting up to ease the dull throbbing of his head. "I hadn't noticed."

This only prompted his roommate to frown, tucking a strand of platinum hair behind a red-tinged ear. He sat down next to Ciel, sweeping his feet in the pathetic cotton sheets of the bed, staring at him with an unforgiving gaze.

"Like how you don't notice the mountain in your pants?" the blond asked bluntly, eyes never leaving Ciel's. Ciel snorted, shifting to lay on his side, head facing the wall so he couldn't see himself being scrutinized under blond's heated look. He could say whatever the hell he wanted, Ciel couldn't care less. He was not the least bit turned on by Alois, that much was clear to both parties. This was prison, and nobody cared in prison. "You're no fun, Ciel," Alois huffed, watching his roommate with pouting eyes.

"This is prison," Ciel voiced aloud, "nothing's meant to be fun."

"You don't know anything about prison, Dear."

No. He really didn't.

* * *

"So you did strangle him?"

Ciel let the question hang in the air; he was sure the other party was going to make up some extraordinary excuse, and he only had so much time, and so much patience. As his words drifted on with no reply, he couldn't help but think to himself with a contemptuous wince, _What the devil was with inmates and garroting efforts?_

The other stayed silent, nonchalantly twirling a strand of crimson with an artificial kind of interest. One, long, slender finger pauses, and the hand is brought upwards in a dramatic sweeping motion before pausing completely at the man's forehead.

"Alas he arrives again... and presentable, I am not," was the flushed murmur Ciel received, though the quiet admittance was probably not directed at him at all.

Blue eyes narrowed in irritation, vein throbbing in his head at the idiot across the desk. He did not have time for the rambling theatrics that he was sure was near delivery. Instead of strangling the other, Ciel opts for scribbling some obscenities in his notebook.

 _Grell Sutcliffe: psychopath. Unstable and hates prison colors._

"Mr. Sutcliffe," the younger tried again, tapping his safety pen against the peeling wood, "did you or did you not attempt to strangle Mr. Spears?"

"Five months I waited for his return," Grell said, this time much louder than the time before. Now Ciel wasn't sure who he wanted to punch. Grell, for his nonsense, or himself, for listening to his nonsense. He wasn't sure who the man was ranting about, but it was becoming more than irking and Ciel was becoming more than agitated. He was supposed to be a guidance counselor, not a psychiatrist or babysitter.

" _Grell_ ," Ciel snapped sharply, glancing at the clock embedded on the wall. Fantastic. They'd wasted eight out of the twenty minutes they had.

"What do you want?" Grell scoffed, obviously ignoring the younger inmate's question. Ciel fought the urge to sock him right then and there. As much as the boy disagreed with Grell, he was right about one particular thing... red was quite a pretty color. Ciel bet it'd look pretty trickling down his nose...

"I asked you a question," the dark-haired boy droned, voice taking on a calming lilt that hadn't been present before. "Did you attempt to strangle Officer Spears?"

Grell dismissed the question quickly with a wave of his hand, brow furrowed and lips pursed.

"He took away my scissors for gardening so I gave him a little scare, s'all."

 _Oh my god_ , Ciel screamed mentally, fist tightening around the pen, prepared to stab someone. Particularly someone across the table. If he didn't answer the bloody question...

"It's a yes or no question, Grell," he forced through gritted teeth.

The man sighed in an overdone fashion, finally looking Ciel in the eyes for the first time that session. They stayed that way for a while, neither willing to back down. The sound of the second hand on the clock was the only in the room, a quiet reminder of what they were wasting. Eventually, after another three minutes had ticked away (much to Ciel's displeasure), the other caved in.

"Yes, I confess," Grell responded with a roll of his eyes, "Now will you please listen to _my_ problems for once instead of demanding your own, you little twat?"

Ciel stabbed the paper of his notebook, making a little downwards rip in the lined pages, instantly sinking into a fit of piques when it registered to him that he'd sullied the only thing keeping him sensible.

 _It's not worth it, just do it. The more you let him talk, the quicker you get to leave._

"Fine," he relented, fingers lacing together in a mockery of some official. They had another seven minutes left, so why not let the man rant. That didn't mean Ciel had to listen, though.

The red-head clapped feverishly, maniacal cheshire-grin present once more.

"Bassy is coming back from his probationary period in Chelmsford tomorrow," Grell exclaimed with a flourish of his hands.

Ciel nodded absentmindedly, beginning to add on the notes he'd already taken of the man.

 _Loony; in denial._

"I missed him dearly, I did."

 _Attached to nonexistent people._

"I still have one entire night to prepare, but I'm still stuck in these rags. What does a lady have to do to get some appropriate wedding attire around here?"

 _Terribly vain crossdresser._

"I'm not sure if- Listen to me!" Grell huffed, slamming his palms on the desk in a fit of anger. The pen slid across the lined page, a disarray of scribbles across the fine print of notes. Ciel had to bite his tongue to avoid lashing out at the dunce.

 _Demanding._

"I am," he replied with a mask of serenity, snapping the leather book shut with one hand to prove a point.

"Anyhow," Grell emphasized, looking pointedly at Ciel, "I've been saving myself for him, and I figured it could be his coming home gift. Poor thing; probably had nobody to help him in such high security."

Ciel felt the his face and neck blossom. He wasn't the least bit interested in knowing when any of his fellow inmates were shagging. He lived with those people, for goodness sakes, and had to see and converse with them everyday (despite how much he despised it).

But there was a lingering curiosity within as to who the hell Grell could possibly have taken a liking to. As far as Ciel was concerned, the red-head seemed to despise most (himself, especially) of the men in Hatfield, deeming each one too skinny or too fat, or too tall, or too short. The only exception the boy had yet to see was one of the inmates in another unit. Pluto, he believes, is his name.

"Who?"

Grell looked insulted for a moment, bringing his hand up to his chest as if to say, 'ouch.'

"Bassy."

"Bassy," Ciel repeated, pinching the bridge of his nose. How ridiculously helpful.

"Yes, Bassy," Grell confirmed with an exasperated look, "you know, Sebastian."

Oh lord. Ciel had to force down the dry chuckle waiting in his throat. From all of the names he'd heard in Hatfield, that had to be the only one that wasn't too posh for imprisonment. That was saying something.

Of course judging books by covers was no doubt extremely... shallow... but who was to say Ciel wasn't? Besides his name, the boy knew nothing of this 'Sebastian.' The first thing crossing his mind had to have been: Who the hell was this man, and why was everyone so obsessed with him?

Seriously, Ciel had never thought he'd see two _prison inmates_ start a cafeteria uprising because of some petty dispute about who was the better friend, as if this was Junior High social media. And he certainly didn't think he'd ever live to see a psycho-criminal declare love for another.

"He's my savior," Grell said simply after the other boy hadn't responded.

Fabulous.

"Sebastian?" Ciel chortled dryly. The redhead nodded, examining his left hand for any nail splits.

"Sebastian Michaelis."

* * *

The italic phrases and words are notes Ciel takes of everyone. Sorry if that wasn't made very clear. Thanks for reading!

See you soon,

Yellerumbrellas.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hiya! I'll be replying to your lovely reviews at the end of each chapter from now on, and I'll make sure to PM you if you review after I've posted the following chapter. Without** **further ado...**

* * *

He wasn't sure if it was the pale bare arm dangling off the top bunk, swaying back in forth in a near hypnotic manner. Or the onslaught of heat brought upon by the broken air conditioning, causing waterfalls of sweat down his backside. Or maybe it was the faint dripping of rain residue outside his window in a neat one, and two, and three beat. But for once in all his years, Ciel had failed in forcing himself to sleep.

Of course, he'd never been a very pleasant sight at nightfall- insomniac even, if the diagnose had been up to him. Never had the boy felt sleepy. Ciel Phantomhive could have been exhausted- tired to the point of falling into a priceless heap of skin and bones. But he still wouldn't have been sleepy. And oh, the difference. One that he'd learned at a very young age.

Tired was when he'd spend thirteen hours rotting in hell, yet again unprepared to close his eyes, knowing he'd only open them and be forced to rinse and repeat. How boring. In fact, Ciel liked the comfort of the darkness and the shift of security that came with it. He supposed it was more or less because nobody was there to probe and pick at him when they couldn't _see_ him. And he needed to keep it that way as long as he could.

Tired was when every night came the same. He'd start off by shoving himself under bleached covers and attempting to close his eyes, but feel the burn of yearning thrill and curiosity behind them moments later. The little lullaby he'd begun at the escape of light had stopped long ago, replaced by the hum of dreading any time remotely near dawn.

Tonight, Ciel had never been more than just that. Exhausted.

Somewhere deep inside, there'd probably be a fraction of himself that wanted to doze off and feel the greet of sunlight on pale eyelids for once without harboring any violent thoughts towards the morning. But what fun was mental _peace_ in the early hours, anyway?

There was a crave of rest, certainly. But his mind always remained clouded with impending thoughts, a whirlpool of carelessness, if you will. In the end, Ciel was just tired. Bored. Unamused. Annoyed. But never sleepy.

Sleepy. That was something Ciel couldn't describe. Or rather, didn't know how.

Even right then, as he gazed intently at the graceful swing of Alois's left forearm, feeling the wetness trickle down his back, and the rhythmic pitter patter of rainfall, he couldn't very well understand what the purpose of slumber was. It just seemed so unnecessary. So pathetic. So weak. So _human_.

With a hushed snort of irony and shake of his head, Ciel shifted to his side with tightly shut lids, away from his roommate's suspended limb. He could've at least tried.

In fact, he'd used a variety of different methods to wear himself out.

First, he'd repeated the alphabet forwards and backwards, five times each. And then twice in Greek. When that failed, he moved on to counting the threads of his sheets, and stopped somewhere around four thousand seven hundred.

Slowly but surely, midnight turned to one, and one into two, as the shadows shifted and puddled into a mass of darkness that could scarcely be made out.

By the time three managed to roll around, Ciel had gone through a good hundred of Roman Numerals, reached negative sixty four buckets of milk on the wall, and memorized the little hairs on Alois' arm (which had retreated somewhere around two thirty).

But the more effort there was, the more restless he became. The louder the drips were, the more vivid the absence of light and sight, the hotter his neck was. Everything grew extremely lucid, and soon, all he could feel was the tumble of his feet as he slid across the chilling linoleum floor.

With an uncertain glance at his roommate, Ciel latched onto the door handle, giving it a slight jiggle, quiet enough to not wake Alois. He wasn't really sure what he was expecting, but he needed to at least _attempt_ to get out before he suffocated and lost his grip on himself. With a defeated mumble, he looked back at his roommate, eyelids drooping, but not in the way he wanted them to.

 _Of course,_ Ciel knew the door'd be locked. Those foolish security guards, Abberline and Randall, as strictly slap-happy as they were, would always double check each unit for loose cells in case an inmate would try and escape. The doorknobs were forever rigid past 9:30, and the halls more silent than the abandoned farm back near Ciel's old home.

He cringed at the reminder, and shuffled forward with a drowsy gaze and blurry eyes. Almost immediately afterwards, Ciel felt his left foot slip on top of the waxy tile, sending him straight forward into the seemingly locked door.

He reflexively clasped onto the cold metal knob, face planting into the wood with a faint clomp as the door was pulled from its latch, shining the same stiff fluorescent light into the darkness of Cell 0076.

Ciel wheezed silently, eyes wide as he made another look at the blond inmate in the room, who had begun shifting, but back still facing Ciel- thank God. With a flushed face and mouth agape, he tentatively stuck his head out the door, careful not to alert anyone who might've been passing.

 _Oh my god,_ he thought, quickly shutting the door in a fit of panic. _Shit._

He felt his breath hitch as worry clouded his thoughts. Dammit, the cameras must have caught him. Or worse, one of the guards. Then they'd place him in confinement for attempted escape- alone. As much as he hated that sex-addict on the top bunk, the thought of spending any time isolated in a place he loathed was more frightening by a longshot.

Yet underneath all the paranoia he so regularly experienced, Ciel felt this un-welcomed gush, as if someone had just knocked open a dam in his lungs. For once in his life, his escalated lack of breathing felt... good. The extreme beating of his heart almost addicting.

But Ciel waited. Ten seconds. Then thirty. Then a whole three minutes. That's when the ringing of his ears in echoing silence ceased, and the thundering of his heart faded into a pitter patter within.

When Ciel was sure he could feel the stillness of his room welcome him once more, he decided it was probably best to leave the door be, and just sleep it off and ignore the blossoming curiosity in his chest.

Then he paused, fingers frozen as he fisted cotton sheets.

Maybe just this once...

 _No._ He squinted, sliding into the safe-zone of his bottom bunk with a shaky sigh.

It was probably best to leave everything be.

Besides, he was too _tired_ for adventure.

* * *

A sickly pale nose wrinkled in offense at the gust of wind rushing from the outside world, whipping around dark strands of hair along with it. Two dull blue eyes opened to face the gated gardens of Hatfield Prison, followed by grumbling about the blinding rays of morning glazing the scene with an untouchable kind of warmth. A thick barb-wired fence surrounded the greenery, an eyesore amongst nature. If not for the sharp wires and cameras surrounding, it would have been far too easy to just climb over and run.

Something bitter and light wove its way through the breeze, one so dainty many might have mistaken it for the regular billows of smog from the nearby cities. It was, after all, a nice spring afternoon just like any other. But Ciel knew better than many.

The boy allowed a single mumble to slip out at the slippery mud caking his shoes once stepping forth, lips pursing in distaste as he tried to wipe it off on the dewy grass. That's when he'd fallen arse over tits across the entire field, knees planted what felt like meters deep within the gushing dirt.

For a second, he'd forgotten why he decided to visit the blasted outdoors in the first place. Had he not had his pride and everything to uphold, he probably would have started screaming bloody murder until his lungs gave out, but he was a gentleman after all, opting for a set of gritted teeth and impatient yanking of grass as the leather notebook slid out of nimble fingers and into the wetted soil. Never mind those manky pillocks on the _inside_ of that hell hole, but now it seemed as if even escaping the main pits of the underworld weren't enough to put him out his misery.

 _Kill me now._

"Ciel? Is that you?"

A head of slate whipped around, breath hitching when he was met with a face full of straw-blonde hair barely five centimeters away. With a swallow and sharp intake, he dropped the fistful of weeds and grass blades, letting them float away wordlessly in the billowing air.

"Oh," Ciel frowned awkwardly with a shrug and flutter of mud-ridden fingers, "Finny."

 _Shit._ Considering his previous luck, Ciel almost expected that. The other inmate only gave him a wide-eye cheshire at the still-seated boy, one that Ciel was sure had been permanently etched on at some point long before they'd met.

Finnian, or Finny as most referred, was one of the few inmates Ciel could withhold an actual conversation with without the wanting to slit his own throat. Ciel only had few scribbles about Finny, both of them being about his glowing demeanor that could be a tad overwhelming at times. From what little Ciel knew of this guy, he couldn't fathom how someone like Finny ended up at Her Majesty's Pleasure.

 _Swamping joy. Strong hugs._

The first time they'd met was a bit fuzzy in Ciel's memory, but he could barely recall accidentally walked into the garden and stepping on a patch of baby tomatoes while somebody fretted oh-so-dearly in the corner. That had been his first and last trip to the outdoors.

All in all, the two weren't very close. Finny spent most of his lunch break with one of the inmates on kitchen duty, and all of his other time tending to the garden. And Ciel. Well, he spent his lunches being harassed, and his other time moping in his cell and playing therapist. It wasn't difficult to see how their paths had never crossed.

"What're you doing here?" Finny inquired as he picked at a nonexistent speck of dirt on his uniform, "You normally don't come out at all."

Ciel blanched at his frankness, lips parted with shallow breaths and a genuinely amused cock of his eyebrow. How wonderfully subtle of him.

"I was beginning to worry if I didn't get out much sooner that I'd stop growing," Ciel stated simply, having stood up crossing the path of dirt to inspect a budding tulip. Had it not been for the strange glances he was receiving periodically from the other inmate, Ciel would have gladly slapped himself for that poor fabrication. As if he gave a damn about how tall he was.

He'd only come out of his hiding hole to hide, ironically, from those 'Welcome Back' enthusiasts within the walls, bellowing in the cafeteria. Just as Ciel had expected, everyone had gone bezerk because of this blooming 'Sebastian' and his awaited return, plonkers screaming to assemble and deliver, cards thrown about in a frenzy of signing. Then there was a swarm of inmates requesting extra lunch time to discuss about how they'd greet him. It was chaos within chaos.

It wasn't really the mayhem that bothered Ciel, though. After all, what would Hell be without disorder? No, he didn't really pay attention for whatever schemes the others were plotting, as long as they left him out of it. He much more liked watching than partaking.

Unfortunately, nobody seemed to get the memo, so to say he was a tad bit agitated when they burst into his cell was probably the understatement of the century. He wasn't even sure if anyone other than Alois was allowed in his room.

Furthermore had been a calm exchange of threats, mostly from his part, until the last of them left his room, still yelping about the get together for Sebastian.

Ciel thought the entire idea was absolute bollocks. The officials would catch all of them sooner or later and throw them all in confinement- not that he was complaining. He wouldn't mind if some particular people went. _Actually,_ he thought with a drunken smile, _maybe the plan wasn't so bad._ They could all go rot in isolation for all he cared.

"Well 'at's better than wallowing alone in your cell, right?" Finny admitted, snapping Ciel out of his day dream, while yanking a wild weed from a patch of squash near the entrance of the place.

The boy stayed silent for a second, not exactly confident in an appropriate answer to the insinuated jab.

"I guess."

There was a pause in between as Finny shifted behind Ciel to look at the tulips as well.

"D'you like the garden?" Finny yapped, leaning on a shovel.

The boy had to fight the urge to snort.

"I guess," he repeated.

Truth was, Ciel didn't very much like anything pertaining to the outdoors. Nature seemed to have every ounce of hate against him, and he couldn't say that he didn't reciprocate. Everything about the outdoors was so primal, messy, animalistic, and to be quite honest, it all frightened him. But whatever his issue be with the outdoors, Ciel had to shove it down if he wanted to find any peace that day.

Finny frowned, picking up a fallen pot of bat orchids up with a gaze like that of a mother looking at her child who scraped their knees on the sidewalk. His eyes flitted upwards at Ciel, who was too busy faking an examination of tulips to notice.

"Ciel," the other began, gesturing at the pot in his hands, "could you please care for these while I'm off on my lunch break? They're for Sebastian, and I'd hate to see them ruined."

Ciel nodded dryly, taking the pot with ease while Finny retreated into the building with a wave of his hands at that unbearable grin of his. With a glare at the plant, he set them on the ground, shuddering and shaking when a pill bug crawled up his thumb.

 _Sebastian this, Sebastian that._ Blah, blah, blah.

The man was probably a household name, golly.

Actually, Ciel was dying to meet him. Maybe then he'd finally assure himself that this 'Sebastian' was just some filthy criminal he'd hate just like the rest of them, and not some god shrouded in gold and a pair of dove wings.

Ciel glanced at the notebook laced in his fingers, smeared with dirt and pen ink. There were two possibilities. Either Ciel would absolutely despise this man, enough for him to have chapters upon chapters of bitching, flourishing in vocabulary that was sure to dwarf Dumas. Or Ciel would _completely_ hate him with a passion, enough that there wouldn't be a single letter about him.

That weird curiosity had come back, crawling up his spine as he ignored it in favor for the dark flower on the ground. It had to have been the most terrifying thing of nature he'd ever come in contact with. More so than all the wasps and spiders, more so than the drifting pollen.

He never did see the point in flowers. Vibrant and basking in this utterly glorified version of themselves, wrapped in expensive bouquets and delectable ribbons before being handed off to die at the manicured hands of some ungrateful lady. Kind of meaningless to gift if you asked him.

In Ciel's eyes, flowers were the closest things to compare to humans.

Worshipped and sought after by all, claiming to have some profound meaning, but roots only reaching so shallow in the world.

While young in its prime, gorgeous and priceless. But nearing the end, never uglier.

* * *

The nice pitter-patter of rain had not greeted Ciel's awaiting ears that night. Instead, a flurry of silence that probed at his every angle floated throughout the cell, making it even more difficult than usual to force himself into slumberland.

Whatever wonders of the mysterious man's return had been masked by the impending wonder of the room door, and whether or not it was still unlocked like the night before.

Ciel felt his stomach lurch as he moved to lie on his front side, having skipped dinner so he wouldn't have to deal with those crazed fools and their reuniting with Sebastian- who apparently, according to Alois, didn't even show up at his own get together. How lovely.

Speaking of his roommate, he was still sound asleep on the top, light snoring the sure indication. Ciel groaned, ripping the white sheets off his frame with an iron-grip. The air conditioning had yet to be fixed, despite all the complaints he knew he had filed to the commissary that day.

A defining click of his tongue in the heat confirmed his own thought. Tonight, there would be no dreams to dream and no morning greetings. That much was evident with all those swirling thoughts in his mind. Instead of trying to sleep, maybe he'd just try and leave. That way, he might actually get something accomplished.

Ciel wasn't sure what exactly prompted this abrupt declaration of departure, but sooner than later, he felt himself moving towards the door, soles of his feet tingling at the spotless tiles once more.

Could it have been the desperate hunger clawing at his gut? Most likely. Or the lack of coherency because of his exhaustion? Even more so.

Thin fingers wrapped around the metal knob, tugging drowsily in the shadows of Cell 0076.

The only difference was that this time, he knew all the things he was expecting.

The whispering click of an opening cell door was not one of them.

Neither was the welcoming blast of air, and the stunning glow of cold fluorescence as he stepped into the brightly lit hallway.

And a large pair of calloused hands squeezing tightly around his arms _definitely_ was not.

"You must be the new kid."

* * *

 **bordoroloroy:** Oh my freaking gosh. That has to be one of _the_ kindest things anyone has ever said to me online (lmaooo you should see the jerks on my tumblr). I'm beyond happy you liked it, and I'm _far_ beyond ecstatic that you enjoy my writing! Thank you so much!

 **promocat:** I hope different is good ;) But yeah, Sebastian makes everything more interesting. Thank you!

A/N

I'm sorry this chapter was so messy and short, but at least Ciel finally met Sebby. Kind of.

Am I the only one that finds Monochrome No Kiss _**extremely**_ depressing? So I re-watch the last episode of Kuroshitsuji II over and over and over again 'cause I both hate it and like (not love) it so darn much. But I have this habit of listening to the song right after watching the season two finale (do not attempt this at home), and I always feel the need to burst into hysterics because the lyrics literally are about what I imagine Sebastian and Ciel's relationship _could have been_.

Whether it'd have been romantic at all, I don't really give a flying fairy ( _yes I flipping do_ ), but the connection they'd built within three years seemed to have completely been outdone by the eternal 'curse'. And they were on their way to so much more. Anyhow, sorry, I just feel really unsatisfied whenever I splurge like that, with them disappearing into a field with no explanation (or perhaps they went to Hell, I don't know).Whatever, now I'm gonna silently cry in a corner and do some satanic ritual to summon a hottie and not _screw up and waste my opportunities_ like Ciel.

Thanks again for putting up with me!

With love,

Yellerumbrellas.


End file.
